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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26346316">Messes Made</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Styfas/pseuds/Styfas'>Styfas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Joker (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Missing Scene, Short One Shot, Suicidal Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:07:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>479</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26346316</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Styfas/pseuds/Styfas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While in his dressing room at the <em>Live! With Murray Franklin</em> theater, Arthur Fleck considers rudeness and messes made - and how he will leave messes of his own.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Messes Made</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I do not own the character of Arthur Fleck/Joker.  He belongs to DC (?), writers, directors, and Joaquin Phoenix.</p><p>I have borrowed movie situations, locations and lyrics 💗 with LOVE 💗  and used them for fic purposes.  These situations, locations, and lyrics do not belong to me.</p><p>Lacking zoom and sharpen tools, I'm not able to see *exactly* what's written on those walls.... so I made up/embellished for the parts of the walls that were not shown to us in the movie.  </p><p>I am making no money from this.</p><p>And... as I always like to say, <em>This is fiction - and that's a fact!</em></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing Arthur noticed when he walked into his dressing room at the <em>Live! With Murray Franklin</em>  theater was the giant mirror.  Clean and smooth, with no smudges or streaks. </p><p>Next, he saw the scribbled writings - in ink, no less - on the beige paneled walls.  How rude.  It appeared that the writing had been there for years; unable to be removed.  Arthur recognized some of the written names as belonging to those who had their pictures on the walls at Pogo’s Comedy Club: Rodney Dangerfield,  Buddy Hackett, and Freddie Prinze, among others.  Idolized comics, yes – but still, rude.  Everybody was rude these days.</p><p>Arthur sat at the makeup table and took inventory.  Champagne and other booze, and a large bowl of nuts; Arthur didn’t drink alcohol, and he wasn’t hungry; he’d pass on both.  Glasses and a coffee mug; not necessary.  Kleenex and paper towels; those would be helpful when touching up his makeup – and it did need touching up, considering the chase he had just endured.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his clown white and blue paint makeup.  He had forgotten to bring brushes, but he knew he could apply these colors and blend them with his fingers.   </p><p>But in his rush to leave for the show, he had also forgotten his red paint.</p><p>His gaze fell to two tubes of red lipstick on the counter.  Perfect; he’d use those.  After applying the white and blue, then washing his hands, he picked up a tube of lipstick and brightened up the red of his original makeup, then defined the outlines of his clown nose and smile.</p><p>Now to leave his mark in the dressing room.  Not on the wall, though.  No, he wouldn’t be so rude as to write something that couldn’t be cleaned off later. </p><p>He'd write on the mirror – and something more important for everyone to remember than his name.  Not Arthur Fleck, not Joker – but a message; a motto he had been living since youth.</p><p>Arthur stood up and wrote, big and bold, in red lipstick:<em> Put on a Happy face.</em></p><p>He sat down and lit up a cigarette.  A slight smile came to his lips as he read the words he had written on the mirror.  Yes, that’s exactly what he would do on stage: put on a happy face while telling his knock-knock joke, then position his gun just behind his chin and pull the trigger.</p><p>That mess would be far more difficult to clean up.  Maybe the blood stains would never be totally eradicated.  He took a slow drag of his cigarette and wondered if it would be rude to leave such a mess behind for some unfortunate custodial person.</p><p>He exhaled, shrugging it all off.  Why bother wondering?  Within an hour, he’d be dead – and then nothing would matter anymore.</p><p><em>That’s life, </em>he thought with a laugh.  </p>
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